


I Knew I Loved You Then

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Declarations Of Love, Falling In Love, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Pining, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 11:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18690187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A simple touch. A brush of fingers. Sometimes, that's all it takes to spark a feeling.





	I Knew I Loved You Then

**Author's Note:**

> Could be interpreted as post endgame. Could also be intepreted as not. Your choice!
> 
> I loved writing this. I love my boys.

It starts with a touch.

 

A simple brush of hands - brisk, brief, almost unnoticeable.

 

Sam only asks Bucky to give him his phone. He does without hesitation, and as he does so, his fingers, a mere ghost, gently touch his own. They linger, for what must be a ninth of a second. But Sam feels it. It jolts through him like an electric shock - and for a moment he thought that it was actually just static, until his entire body heats up and he realizes he’s _flustered._

 

Sam pulls his hand away.

 

“Thank you,” he mutters, looking down immediately.

 

“No problem,” Bucky answers, but Sam’s heart is pounding too hard to hear him.

 

It’s like electricity is coursing through his veins.

 

* * *

 

They’re at dinner. They aren’t really talking. Just eating in silence, like normal.

 

“Hey, “ Sam suddenly says. Bucky looks up from his food and raises his eyebrows. “What does a nosey pepper do?”

 

Bucky makes a face, a mixture between confusion and _is this guy for real?_ “Uh… I don’t know?”

 

“Gets jalapeño business.”

 

There’s a brief pause as the joke registers in Bucky’s head. It’s a stupid joke, but for some reason, it sends Bucky into a fit of laughter. His face is red as he keeps laughing. It causes Sam to chuckle.

 

Bucky’s laughter is glorious. Sam always wants to remember it.

 

* * *

 

It’s movie night. Something Scott picked out is playing on the screen. _Spaceballs._ Some Star Wars parody. Sam’s in the far right corner of the couch, head resting on his palm, elbow upright on the arm of the couch.

 

He’s bored, but everyone else seems to be having a good time. Clint’s sitting on the floor, gleefully laughing while continuously shoving popcorn in his mouth. Scott’s on the other end of the couch, leaning forward to explain to Wanda what exactly is going on.

 

“It’s a parody, Wanda,” Scott explains. “You know. Haven’t you seen _Star Wars?”_

 

“No,” Wanda mutters. “I have no interest to. This seems to be boring and confusing. I’m not finding anything funny about it.”

 

Sam lets out a snort.

 

“To hell with you, I’m laughing my ass off!” Clint chimes in. Scott smiles in response and nods.

 

“Seriously, Lang, you couldn’t have picked a _better_ movie?” Sam sighs and drums his fingers on his thigh.

 

“Aw, you’re just no fun!” Scott leans back into the couch. “It’s a good movie!”

 

“That’s debatable,” Bucky enters the room, holding a bag of chips.

 

“See?” Wanda says. “That’s three against two.”

 

Bucky eyes the open spot between Scott and Sam. It’s a little small, but he glances at Sam, as if asking for permission to sit. Sam nods, scooting as far over as he possible can, and Bucky sits. They’re close enough - snug enough - for their shoulders to be touching. Sam lifts his head from his palm and looks at the part where Bucky’s metal shoulder is touching his own. Bucky raises an eyebrow in concern.

 

“Sorry, do you want me to sit on the floor? I was just trying to see if I could fit.”

 

“No,” Sam answers, a little bit too quickly, but perhaps that’s not noticeable. “You’re fine. Let’s just try and focus on this dumb movie.” He smiles and Bucky lets out a small laugh.

 

Turns out, Sam can’t focus on the movie. The coolness of the metal arm heats up his body. He keeps sneaking side glances, as if to make sure that they were still touching.

 

* * *

 

Sam takes a deep breath of air - summer. He’s always loved summer. The green of the plants and the flowers in full bloom, complete with the songs of birds and the warm temperatures that provide a sense of peace.

 

They’re staying in an old farm house now, Sam and Bucky. They moved out of the compound to do their own missions. It’s a beautiful little house, painted white on the outside with light red shutters on the sides of the windows. The paint has been worn down with age, and there are many times where Sam thinks about running to the store, picking up some paint, and redoing the whole house. It always seems like a fun project to do.

 

He sighs - perhaps that is what he should do.

 

He drives to the local hardware store and picks up a couple gallons of white paint. He pays, tossing a smile at the lady cashier and she giggles.

 

When Sam gets home, he changes into an old shirt and shorts. He pulls out a somewhat rusty step ladder and an old, stained tarp from the mini shed in the backyard and lays it out. He gets to work.

 

Two hours pass, and the sun beating down on Sam’s bent over figure disappears into a shadow. He glances up to see Bucky hovering over him, his head tilted in mild confusion, giving off a puppy dog vibe. His hair is tied up in a loose bun and is wearing a stained tank with athletic shorts. The sun forms almost a halo around him, and Sam has to withhold himself from gasping out loud as he stands up to Bucky’s height.

 

“You doin’ this alone?” Bucky asks. “I could help you.”

 

Sam shrugs. “I was bored. Always wanted to retouch this. Thought I’d get around to it.”

 

“Still,” the other man’s lips quirk upwards into a small smile. “Hand me a brush. It’s not like I’ve anything to do.” He wipes a bead of sweat off of his forehead, and Sam catches himself staring, and he coughs once into his fist before bending down to pick up another paintbrush. He hands it to Bucky, and he grabs the handle.

 

Their fingers brush again, and it sends a shiver through Sam.

 

“Thanks,” Bucky flashes a brilliant smile. “Where should I start?”

 

Sam points to the corner of the house. “How about there? I’ll work on top, and you can get the bottom.”

 

Bucky wiggles his eyebrows in a suggestive way. “Mmk, Wilson.”

 

Sam laughs and shakes his head. “Grow up, Barnes.”

 

He says nothing, just smirks, before bending over to start painting. The loose ends of his hair falls into his face, the sunlight casting onto the perfect frame of his face in such a way that makes Sam’s heart skip.

 

It takes Sam approximately three seconds before he regains his composure and gets on the step ladder.

 

* * *

 

They’ve been on the road for two hours. Bucky says he needs to use the bathroom. Sam rolls his eyes but pulls over at the nearest gas station.

 

“Hurry back now, we’ve still got a couple of hours on this drive.” Sam tells him as he exits the car.

 

“I can’t control the speed at which I pee.” Bucky responds, smirking.

 

“I’ll time you. Five minutes or I’m stranding your Jesus-looking ass here.”

 

Bucky rolls his eyes and walks into the gas station store.

 

Five minutes pass, and Bucky walks out of the store with a bag in his hands. Sam shoots him an odd look as he gets into the car.

 

“Here,” Bucky says, reaching into the bag and giving him a packet of Skittles. Sam takes it, trying not to focus on the way Bucky’s fingers graze his, and stares at it for a brief moment before looking back at Bucky, his eyebrows raised.

 

“Huh?” Is all he can muster.

 

Bucky shrugs. “You mentioned how Skittles were your favorite once.”

 

Sam smiles and starts to drive.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t supposed to go this way, with Sam bleeding from his side and Bucky hauling him into the house. The mission - it was supposed to be quick, easy, until Bucky made a tactical error and forgot to check a blind spot. Sam was shot, the bullet hitting his right side, just above his hip. He fell to the ground, wailing in pain as Bucky quickly took care of the stray shooter.

 

There’s a trail of blood from the door to the couch as Sam is gently pushed down, his shirt being ripped open by frantic hands quickly getting to work.

 

“I’m...I’m fine...Bucky,” Sam musters. He’s in a lot of pain.

 

“Shut up,” Bucky hisses, grabbing a bunch of bandages and gauze from their first aid kit. “This is all my fault. I didn’t even see him.”

 

“It’s- fuck, it’s okay.” Sam tries his best to reassure him. Normally, the image of Bucky running his hands all over Sam’s naked chest would send his body into overdrive, but the pain is too unbearable and that’s all he can think about. That, and reassuring Bucky that he’ll be okay.

 

“It’s not okay,” Bucky shakes his head. “You’re not a super soldier. You can’t withstand as much damage as I can. Sometimes it slips my mind and fuck, Sam, I’m so sorry.”

 

“Hey,” Sam can feel himself breathe again as Bucky wraps him. “We all do stupid things. But look, I’m gonna be okay. I’m gonna live. He shot my side, not my heart.”

 

“He could have shot your heart, if his aim wasn't so shit.”

 

“Obviously an amateur,” Sam snorts. Bucky’s lips quirk upwards for a split second before immediately falling into a frown. He finishes the wrap job and takes a moment to catch his breath. His hands are covered in blood and there’s a lot of blood all over his face and side from carrying Sam. “Hey.”

 

Bucky looks up.

 

“I’ll be alright. It’s okay.”

 

Bucky shakes his head. “I made a huge mistake and it could have cost you your life.”

 

“But it didn’t. We can’t do anything about it now.”

 

Bucky stands up and jogs to the kitchen area, shuffling through a cabinet to find some pain killers. “The bullet exited your body, so you don’t have to fret over going to a hospital and having it removed.” He walks back over with a glass of water and the pills, and hands them to Sam. “No vital organs either. You really are going to be fine. But I still feel....guilty.”

 

Sam’s lips quirk upwards in a pained smile. “C’mon, Barnes, don’t tell me you’re getting sappy on me now.”

 

Bucky sighs and he kneels down in front of Sam, double checking the bandaged areas. “Not getting sappy, just don’t really want to lose my only friend.”

 

Sam’s smile falters a bit - noting at how sincere that was. “Buck, no need to worry over that now. I’m here, I’m alive. I’m shot, but I’m alive. Now please, get a mop and clean the fucking blood off the floor, I can’t stand it.”

 

Bucky rolls his eyes and lets out a small chuckle. “Fine. But only because I got you into this mess.” He pauses, staring at Sam for a moment before wrapping his arms gently around his neck, drawing him in for a hug. He’s careful not to hurt Sam.

 

Sam is shocked for a moment before slowly wrapping his arms around Bucky as best as he can. He pats his back a couple of times. “It’s alright, Bucky.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispers into his shoulder,

 

“All okay,” Sam says, and Bucky pulls away, his hand lingering ever so slightly on Sam’s shoulder. He walks away to find the mop.

 

Sam’s heart is beating rapidly. He can still feel the warm comfort of arms around him.

 

* * *

 

He’s back in the air. Sounds of gunshots boom through the sky, ringing in Sam’s ears like church bells, although not as pretty. His partner, Riley, is on his left, flying and dodging.

 

Then there’s a loud _bang_ and Riley starts falling. Sam flies after him. He’s calling his name, reaching out his hand. Their hands are so close. Come on, Riley, just a little....further... _COME ON!_

 

Sam jolts himself awake with a shout. His shirt is soaked from sweat and his heart is racing. Bucky opens the door, a concerned look on his face. He sits down next to Sam on the bed, wrapping one arm around him and pulling him close. It’s comfortable, familiar.

 

“Wanna talk?” Bucky asks. Sam nods.

 

“Riley.” Is all he can manage between his pants.

 

“Riley? I think you’ve mentioned him before.” Bucky narrows his eyes as he tries to remember. “Was your nightmare about him?”

 

Sam nods, burying his face in his hands as he tries to regain his breathing. “He was my wingman, my partner. He was...one of the greatest men I have ever known. He was shot out of the sky during a typical PJ rescue op. It wasn’t supposed to go that way, but an RPG got him.” He shakes his head, allowing a single tear form and fall down his face. Bucky reaches his flesh hand up and wipes it. Sam takes a deep breath and continues. “My dreams about him. They’re the same but they’re different. Like everything changes around us but the actual fall? Always happens the same way. I’m reaching out to him, and he’s so close to grabbing my hand…” he trails off.

 

“I’m so sorry.” Bucky murmurs, rubbing his shoulder. “That’s awful.”

 

“I’ve been better, mostly,” Sam admits. “But occasionally? I get these little spells. It sucks. Big time. But they do happen.”

 

“Can you tell me about him?”

 

Sam turns his head. “Huh?”

 

“Riley. He seems like he was a great guy. Could you tell me more about him?”

 

A small, tearful smile appears on Sam’s face. “He really was one of a kind. Loyal, strong, brave, he had the whole package. Had a wife and kids, too, I was best man at his wedding. He never…” Sam took a deep breath. “He never once judged me, ever. I could tell him anything and everything, and he wouldn’t bat an eyelash. He really was my best friend.”

 

Bucky remains silent for a moment. “That was like me and Steve, well, before the war and all.”

 

Sam nods. “Yeah. Your Steve was my Riley.”

 

“Then he _really_ must have been a good guy.”

 

Sam lets out a choked sob. “Yeah.”

 

Bucky wipes another tear off of Sam’s face. “You wanna try going back to sleep?”

 

Sam shakes his head. “No way can I go back after this. I never do.”

 

“What if I stay here?” Bucky asks.

 

Sam shrugs. “Maybe. That’d certainly be nice though.” He lays back down and Bucky goes under the covers with him.

 

Sam faces away from him, not wanting to, in his high rise of emotions, get flustered over Bucky in his bed. Bucky reaches out and gently rubs Sam’s back in circles.

 

Sam falls asleep in ten minutes.

 

* * *

 

It’s been a year since Steve died.

 

He’s buried next to Peggy in a beautiful cemetery. The sun is shining when Sam and Bucky visit. The grave, being fairly new, is only a little worn down. There’s a bunch of flowers already there - the other Avengers must have already visited.

 

Bucky’s wearing an old hoodie and sweatpants. Sam’s wearing something similar. There’s a small breeze that’s blowing, but it’s not enough to disrupt the pile of flowers at the base of his tombstone.

 

It seems like it was yesterday, when Steve died. But it’s been a year. Sam sniffles.

 

“It's been a fucking year, I can’t believe it,” Sam whispers.

 

“I miss him,” Bucky replies. “Him and his stupid, punk-ass tendencies, like going against the law for me.”

 

“Hey,” Sam looks at him. “I did that too.”

 

Bucky manages a small smirk. “I meant what I said.”

 

Sam lets out a chuckle. “I hate you.”

 

“I don’t think Steve would appreciate us bickering at his grave.” Bucky smirks and Sam rolls his eyes, returning the smirk.

 

“He always wanted us to shut the fuck up,” Sam reminices. He puts his head down, tears threatening to fall down. “God, fuck, I miss him.”

 

Bucky wraps an arm around him and draws him in. Sam buries his head into his shoulder. When Bucky does the same, Sam can feel his tears on his neck.

 

They cry for thirty minutes, just holding each other.

 

* * *

 

It’s approximately ten o’clock in the morning. Sam already went on his run and now he’s decided he wants to make pancakes. He pulls out the ingredients and starts up the stove. The sound of footsteps causes him to turn his head. It’s Bucky, wearing a loose t-shirt and Captain America pajama pants that Sam had gotten him for Christmas the previous year. Sam’s eyes gloss over Bucky’s figure, noting to himself how precious the man looks. Bucky stretches, his shirt rising up an inch to reveal a small strip of skin, and Sam sends a blessing to whatever God is up there for allowing him to see that sight.

 

“Whatcha makin’?” Bucky yawns.

 

“Pancakes,” Sam answers, filling the bowl with water and pouring the instant mix in. “I am deciding to treat myself. I went on a great run.”

 

Bucky snorts. “You run so slow.”

 

“I wasn’t blessed with an injection that’s like steroids on steroids on steroids,” Sam retorts, flicking a bit of pancake batter into Bucky’s face.

 

Bucky wipes the batter off of his face and laughs. He peers over Sam’s shoulder, his closeness making Sam wonder if Bucky can hear his heart racing. “Anything I can do to help?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam points to the cabinet. “Grab another bowl and mixer. You can make your own damn pancakes.”

 

Bucky rolls his eyes, smirking. “On it, Wilson.” He grabs what he needs and settles down on the other side of the stove to start mixing.

 

Two minutes pass, and Sam finds himself humming _Country Roads._ Bucky tosses him a weird look, and Sam just shrugs and continues, humming transforming into lyrics. Bucky scoffs and shakes his head, and Sam nudges him with an elbow.

 

“Come on, Barnes. I know you know these lyrics. Sing with me.”

 

Bucky joins in. They’re off key, but they’re having fun.

 

* * *

 

Nighttime in the summer at the old farmhouse is nothing short of absolutely breathtaking. There’s a small lake near the corner of the woods. It’s sometimes nice to go swimming there, and that is Bucky’s plan on this beautiful night.

 

Sam’s already sitting outside on a chair when Bucky walks outside. He has two towels with him and a smile wide on his face.

 

“C’mon, Wilson.” Bucky tosses a towel into his face. Sam yelps in surprise and stands up to glare at him.

 

“Why are you flicking a towel in my face?”

 

“We’re going swimming.” Bucky replies, his smile somehow widening even more. He sets off towards the lake.  “Now come on, get your butt in the water.”

 

Sam groans but follows Bucky. “Ain’t it a little late for swimming?”

 

“It’s called Nightswimming for a reason, Sam!” Bucky calls out from behind him. He tosses the towel to the side before taking off his shirt and shorts and jumping gracefully into the water. Sam stands there in awe as he watches the picture unfold, noting how the moonlight just kisses so gently against his skin and beautifully shapes his muscles.

 

When Bucky surfaces, he calls out to Sam again. “C’mon! It’s beautiful!”

 

Sam decides _fuck it_ , and repeats what Bucky did, taking off his shirt and shorts in one go and leaping into the water, splashing in next to Bucky. He surfaces and Bucky laughs.

 

“Well,” Bucky manages between his giggles. “You’re graceful.”

 

Sam splashes him. “Shut up.”

 

Bucky looks up at the sky. “Shit, man, the moon is so beautiful tonight.”

 

Sam glances up - Bucky’s right. The moon is full, shining brilliantly. He looks back at Bucky, whose eyes are still fixated on the sky. The moonlight illuminates his profile so beautifully, and Sam feels his heart skip several beats.

 

It’s right then and there Sam realizes he’s in love.

 

Bucky looks back at Sam, concerned. He arches an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

 

Sam takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “Nothing. Just. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

 

Bucky nods, smiling. He thinks Sam’s talking about the moon. He isn’t.

 

* * *

 

It slips out one day. He didn’t mean to say it. In fact, his intention was to never tell a soul, let alone Bucky himself.

 

Bucky was in the middle of telling a joke. To be fair, Sam doesn’t even remember what the joke was, but he had told it with such excitement and light in his eyes, with a smile so bright that he was sure to put lighthouses to shame. And it was there, when Bucky was laughing, bent over from his own joke, when Sam accidentally lets it slip.

 

“I love you.”

 

Bucky’s laughter ceases. He stands up straight, staring with wide eyes at Sam, whose face is now turning a million degrees hotter. “You...what?”

 

“I’m…” Sam covers his mouth, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. _Fuck._ “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.”

 

Bucky comes closer to him. “You love me?”

 

Sam stutters a bit. “W-well, u-uh….” He sighs in defeat, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah. I love you. I didn’t mean for that to slip out. Fuck, man, I hate my-”

 

Bucky silences him with a kiss. It’s quick and to the point, and it does its job. Sam blinks, lips parted slightly from shock.

 

“W-what?” Sam is bewildered.

 

Bucky reaches a hand up to cup Sam’s cheeks. “I love you too, dumbass.”

 

Bucky kisses him again, with more passion this time. Sam’s hands are at Bucky’s waist. He likes his hands there.

 

* * *

 

Another year later, and they’re at the cemetery again. It’s raining this time - how unfortunate. Sam’s wearing a sweater and khakis. Bucky’s wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. He’s holding a black umbrella to protect the both of them from the rain.

 

“Hey Steve,” Sam begins. “We miss you.”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky adds. “We really do.”

 

Sam stares at the engravement on the tombstone. There’s a tiny Captain America Shield engraved in the corner. Sam had specifically requested that. It turned out well.

 

He takes a deep breath. “Hey Steve, you’ll never believe this.”

 

Sam pauses, as if expecting Steve to answer, before continuing.

 

“We’re getting married, Steve.”

 

Bucky wraps an arm around Sam. “We know you always wanted us to get along.”

 

Sam finds solace in his fiance’s shoulder. “We wish you could be our best man.” He chokes out.

 

The rain continues falling around them.

 

* * *

 

The wedding is small. Sam’s family and a few of the Avengers show up to the ceremony and then the reception. Sam’s never been more happy in his life when he sees Bucky on the dance floor, dancing with Sam’s niece in a beautiful slow dance. He has tears in his eyes.

 

His sister makes a comment about how he’s a lucky guy. Sam can’t agree more.

 

The song ends, and Bucky comes over and takes his now husband’s hand. He kisses his cheek.

 

“That was adorable,” Sam says.

 

“She’s a brilliant dancer.” Bucky replies, smiling. He glances at the bar, pointing in its direction. “You want anything?”

 

“Champagne, please.” Sam requests, kissing the ring on Bucky’s finger. “Gracias.”

 

Bucky walks over to the bar and grabs two glasses of champagne. He returns to Sam and hands him the glass.

 

Their fingertips brush, lingering for a ninth of a second.

 

And Sam still feels that electric feeling.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are so very appreciated! i really thrive off of comments and i love you all so much.
> 
> shoutout to milo for being an awesome beta!
> 
> check me out on [twitter.](https://www.twitter.com/starkologies)  
> check me out on [tumblr.](https://mculeaf.tumblr.com/)


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